


Old Sins Cast Long Shadows

by MercurySkies



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Anger, Angst with a Happy Ending, Annoyed Shane, Barebacking, Come Sharing, Consensual Sex, Feelings Realization, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Insecurity, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Possessive Sex, Romance, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Seven Deadly Sins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-02-09 09:27:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18635383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercurySkies/pseuds/MercurySkies
Summary: Sin/sɪn/noun1. an immoral act considered to be a transgression against divine law.2. any thought or action that endangers the ideal relationship between an individual and God.3. any diversion from the perceived ideal of human living.





	1. I. Wrath

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally inspired by an anonymous prompt on tumblr for some annoyed!Shane and I thought it'd be grand to explore that but then I got a bit carried away and a story formed, its path dictated by each of the seven deadly sins. It's something a little different to what I'm used to writing so I hope you enjoy it!  
> Also R.I.P Ruining History, I will forever mourn you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wrath  
> /rɒθ,rɔːθ/  
>  _noun_  
>  1) Uncontrolled feelings of anger, rage and even hate.

 

 

“Alright.” Shane says, standing abruptly, palms spread flat against the desk. “We’re taking a ten minute break.” There’s a collective groan from the cast, Ryan and Sara included. Shane shoots them an icy glare before quickly deflating. “I know guys, I’m sorry, I appreciate you all taking the time to be a part of this and we’ve run over but I-I need a minute okay?” They all nod guiltily, and Shane strides off set as fast as his long legs can carry him. Ryan shifts to follow him but Sara’s hand on his shoulder has him staying put. She shakes her head at him sadly.

“That bad huh?” He asks, ruefully. He sits back down, eyes glued to the studio door.

Shane returns looking only slightly calmer but to the untrained eye (see: anyone that isn’t Sara or Ryan) he looks as cool as ever. They speed through the rest of the shoot and Ryan can tell that he’s biting his tongue, neglecting to re-shoot segments he’s unhappy with for the sake of speed, of getting everything shot even if it’s not up to his usual high standards.

When they finally wrap Ryan can see that Shane is fraying at the edges, exhausted and disappointed that he’s had to sacrifice an iota of quality so they could just get shit done. Shane is an excellent producer and content creator. He works hard and tirelessly, his attention to detail unparalleled. Ryan admires him a lot and watching him methodically start dismantling the set ready for anyone else that needs the studio whilst talking with his colleagues about the episode’s schedule, has guilt settling heavy like a stone in the pit of his stomach. He loiters around set, waiting until Shane finally hitches his messenger bag onto his shoulder ready to head home.

“Hey man,” Ryan says as Shane approaches, “long day huh?” Shane nods and they make their way quietly off set and out through the rest of the building. They make it to the parking lot without having spoken a single word until Ryan finally plucks up the courage to apologise. Shane sighs.

“It’s fine. It’s always frustrating when a shoot runs long and history isn’t really your thing.” He scrubs a hand across his beard, face pale and drawn. Ryan’s stomach flips at the sight, his gaze falling to his mouth.

“Your thing is my thing.” He says and feels his face flush, sounding painfully sincere even to himself. Shane smiles, slow and sleepy and Ryan’s whole body feels warm. He gets that soft, indecipherable look in his eyes and Ryan knows he’s been forgiven.

“You wanna come over? Order some ‘za? Pop some corn? Watch some ‘flix?” He asks, long fingers fiddling with the strap of his bag. Ryan nods, already reaching for his keys.

“Sure thing big guy.” He answers with a grin, glad that Shane’s annoyance melts so quickly, forgiveness so easily given.

 

* * *

 

They’re several beers in when Shane finally snaps. Ryan had been forgiven, his small indiscretion swept away, but then he had to go and open his damn mouth.

“But- but you gotta admit it was a looooong one.” Ryan says, ignoring Shane’s frown. “We got some good bits going but _Jesus_ , they’re gonna have a job to cut this one. Couldn’t you have found a snappier story?” He’d meant it as a joke, just their usual banter as Shane had commented offhandedly about the season’s schedule. The alcohol has stolen his tact, his ability to realise the mood had soured 20 minutes ago. It has always been hard to tell with Shane, where the line is, between a joke and an insult, between their friendship and something else, something more.

“Fuck off Ryan.” Shane growls and Ryan realises with abrupt clarity that he crossed the line a few miles back. Shane is livid and through the haze of alcohol and rising panic it’s, kinda, sorta, really hot.

“You’re kinda hot when you’re mad.” He blurts out, the words spilling from him. He blinks owlishly, shocked by his own words. Shane freezes. Something flashes in his gaze, eyes darkening but then he’s quickly looking away, jaw clenched as he holds himself impossibly rigid.

“Get out.” He says, voice low and even. Ryan swallows, panic rising up his throat in panic even as a strange heat coils in the pit of his abdomen.

“Hey, no man listen I’m so-”

“No.” Shane says firmly, fixing Ryan with an impenetrable gaze, eyes almost black as his face twists with anger. “No, you listen _man_.” He speaks viciously, voice clipped, edged in ice even when the heat behind each word is scorching. He stands abruptly from the couch and retreats into his apartment like he can’t stand to be near him. He moves over to the kitchen and the tiny adjacent breakfast bar, the entire surface scattered with work related papers and books and countless empty coffee mugs. He starts organising them with quick, violent movements. The mugs clattering into the sink with such force Ryan is sure they’ve shattered.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna cut it.” He says simply, hands planted firmly on the breakfast bar. “You spent the whole fucking afternoon shitting on my work and then you mock me for - you know what? Just leave please Ryan.”

“Shane...” Ryan breathes, scared and anxious but when Shane finally looks up at him he feels his heart stop. Shane looks breathtakingly livid. It’s a quiet, contained sort of anger and Ryan realises belatedly that he hasn’t once raised his voice. This rage seems strange on Shane’s face. Shane is so rarely genuinely angry. Frustrated? Sure. Passionate? Always. But seething? That’s a rare thing and Ryan is equally as mesmerised by it as he is devastated. It’s an intensity of emotion he so rarely sees on Shane and one Shane himself is clearly unfamiliar with experiencing. One minute he paces, as Ryan remains motionless, movement jerky and uncoordinated and the next he’s holding himself unbelievably still, all muscles tensed to maintain a modicum of control.

Ryan stands there, shocked silent as Shane just stares at him.

“Leave.” He says and the anger softens, only slightly, by the look of exhaustion, of sadness, that shadows his features. “I won’t ask again.” There is no room for argument in his voice, in his gaze, no forgiveness as he stands with his arms folded protectively across his chest. Ryan turns and leaves, the sound of the door snapping shut behind him ringing with finality.


	2. II. Sloth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sloth  
> /sləʊθ/  
>  _noun_  
>  1) Idleness or indifference.  
> 2) A lack of any feeling about self or other that leads to rancour or apathy.  
> 3) Deliberately avoiding doing what one should.

 

Shane goes to bed. It’s barely 8 o’clock but he goes about his nightly routine methodically, detached and floating as he showers and brushes his teeth, mind carefully blank. Not a thought crosses his mind until he’s in bed, staring at the ceiling. His skin feels like it’s stinging, pulled too taut across his aching bones, chafed and raw. There’s a gnawing, empty ache in his chest, a sharp tingling sensation in his clavicle that crawls up his throat until it forms a lump. He grits his teeth against it, breathing raggedly as he tries to swallow it down. He pushes fists into his closed eyes until he sees stars and Catherine wheels in the darkness behind his eyelids.

He’s not gonna do this. He hasn’t fallen apart over Ryan once yet. He’s been carefully killing hope like weeds wherever it blooms. What happened was no surprise, making fun of each other is what they do and this was no different.

It was just a joke. Ryan was oblivious and absentminded, not cruel. He can’t know. Shane’s sure he doesn’t know. His words had surprised even Ryan himself. Maybe Ryan wasn’t trying to mock him, tear him down for the feelings too messy and too overwhelming to name that he’s been harbouring for so long. Regardless, Ryan had been like a dog with a bone, latched on and relentless, throwing one barb after another, and Shane is stupid and Shane loves him so he had sat there and let him.

 _This is stupid_ , he thinks through hitching breaths. He rolls and buries himself beneath the comforter and lets the lump in his throat roll into a strangled sob. It’s been months and months of seeing Ryan’s smile and wishing it could be the first thing he sees every morning and the last thing he sees every night.

He’s held onto this for so long. At first he’d denied it, brushed off the aching affection as love for his friend, born from shared interests and simply spending so much time living out of each other’s pockets. The attraction has always been there, because Shane is bi, not blind, has dreamed about crowding close and losing himself in Ryan’s mouth. He aches at the thought of every muscled inch of him juxtaposed with the softness of his cheeks, the spread of thick thighs and the swell of his ass.

When he’d finally accepted that this was more than lust, more than just a fleeting crush on a colleague he’d been overwhelmed with panic and guilt. It felt like a sordid secret, that he was somehow sullying Ryan with the mere notion that Shane might have feelings for him. He tried so hard to stop, to flush it from his system but the feeling persisted like a rash, hot, itchy, crawling across his skin in uncomfortable waves. When he discovered that he couldn’t soothe it or make it disappear, he decided there was nothing for it but to hide it. The list of rules was endless: don’t stare, don’t smile so wide, don’t laugh too much, too long, or too loud, don’t sit too close, don’t let your touch linger, don’t, don’t, don’t. He’d been policing himself so rigorously he’s surprised he’s snapped only now, when he was beginning to let his guard down.

He was starting to look openly, to gaze and hope that Ryan would look back. He’d let his hand squeeze a shoulder, fingers ruffling product free hair. He let himself smile wide and carefree and probably slightly unhinged looking but it had been so long that he’d forgotten to care. They’re all gonna die one day. If he’ll never be brave enough to tell Ryan at least he can show him.

The blistering anger had fizzled away as soon as Ryan had left, sudden doubt suffocating him. He’d been working under the assumption that Ryan knew, that he was sparing his feelings by saying nothing. Ryan’s comment had been a blow to Shane’s best case scenario, that Ryan would eventually acknowledge Shane’s unspoken feelings, let him down easy, keeping the friendship that has become so precious to him intact. Instead it felt as though Ryan were throwing his feelings back in his face. For Ryan to joke as if he could ever feel an ounce for Shane of what he feels for Ryan.

This isn’t what he’s grown to be, stripped of all his experience and confidence and esteem. He feels old and inept and bumbling. He’s making a fool of himself and not the kind it’s usually fun to play, there’s no punchline here but Shane, riding on Ryan’s coat tails, following at his heel like a loyal dog.

Tears sting, bitter and hot and they dampen his pillow in a way that makes it soggy and unbearably sticky beneath his flushed skin. He hurls it blindly into the far corner of the room feeling foolish, and ashamed and excruciatingly embarrassed.

Ryan doesn’t know.

Faithfully single minded and often blissfully dense, Ryan doesn’t know. It was just a bad joke, ill-timed, poking at Shane’s already frayed nerves in his sloppy state. Shane had been childish and petulant, throwing open the lid on his heart and pointing at it, surrounded by splintered bone, shrivelled and beating sluggishly as Shane cries himself hoarse saying ‘this is what you did, this is your fault’.

But _he’s_ the one that stopped caring, the consequences be damned. He was lax and lowered his guard against hope as he indulged in every touch and lurid fantasy, convinced it would be fine because it would never be named, always the elephant in the room.

He curls up flat against the mattress. Ryan doesn’t know. It’s fine. As long as Ryan doesn’t know. He’ll never know.

 

* * *

 

Ryan gets an Uber home, addled brain skipping and jumping through snapshots of Shane’s livid expression. His palms sweat where he rubs them furtively against his denim clad knees, his heart pounding, heat weighing heavily in the pit of his stomach.

As he tumbles through the door to his apartment he asks himself one question over and over again.

“Why did I say that?” He whispers to his bedroom ceiling, skin feeling too tight, blood thrumming through his veins as he shifts on his bed. He closes his eyes and sees Shane’s dark eyes flash with fury, towering and looming and effortlessly strong as anger burnt him up inside and out. The simmering under the surface, a quiet heat that had Ryan marvelling at Shane’s sheer force of will to keep it contained. It had taken him a beautiful and breathtaking amount of control to stay steady, to keep his voice even and measured, to command attention, to demand it and demand to be obeyed.

Ryan’s breath leaves him in a gasp as he shifts beneath the cool sheets, cock half hard as they slip across his heated skin.

‘Why did I say that?’ A small voice in the back of his mind asks again.

‘Because it’s true’ another one answers.

 


	3. III. Lust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lust  
> /lʌst/  
>  _noun_  
>  1\. Desire.  
> 2\. A force producing intense longing or wanting for an individual, object or circumstance.

 

 

When Monday morning rolls around Ryan finds himself one of the first in the office. He sits, sweaty hands clasped in his lap as he waits for Shane at their desks, a steaming take out cup of coffee just the way he likes it perched next to his keyboard. They haven’t spoken all weekend and Ryan considers it both a blessing and a curse. A blessing in that he’s sure that if he were exposed to any more of Shane’s rancour, his dick would explode, and a curse in that in just two short days he’s actually managed to miss the guy.

This weekend had been... Enlightening. He’s discovered a few things about himself that are bound to complicate a few things, not least his relationship with Shane. But this week Ryan is on the charm offensive, to earn Shane’s forgiveness and to decidedly not get in his pants.

It’s a hard thing to cope with, being sucker punched in the gut with attraction to your best friend. Top it off with the fact that having Shane mad at him has anxiety clawing at him so ravenously it’s stolen his sleep and half his sanity, there’s a distinct possibility he’s more than just attracted to him. Shane is warmth and safety and sanity. He’s all roguish charm and soft smiles, silliness and saucy winks. It’s hard not to feel drawn to him, his whole self exuding comfort and joy. What’s not to love?

Shane is Ryan’s best friend, he could wax poetic about his best traits all the livelong day. But there are some that are new to Ryan, traits he’s been discovering over weeks and months, traits he can’t get out of his mind. Long legs and narrow hips, a soft belly, big hands and broad shoulders, an angled jaw and the softest, messiest hair that just begs Ryan to run his fingers through it. Ryan dreams of them, long, elegant fingers tracing works of art into his skin, gripping, caressing, stroking until Ryan wakes sticky and panting.

He shifts uncomfortably in his chair. He catches sight of Shane jogging up the steps just outside the office. He’s early but the three little hops he takes up the concrete stairs are as integral to Shane’s routine as his morning coffee. He looks tired, his hair still shower damp, sure to dry wild and fluffy throughout the course of the day and Ryan feels his heart pick up at the prospect. He pushes through the office’s glass doors and he catches his eye. Ryan smiles and feels relief flood him as Shane answers him with a grin. Shane throws himself into his chair and swivels to face him, snatching the coffee cup from his desk and taking a long sip. Ryan stares at the movement of his throat as he swallows, the bob of the Adam's apple he has the sudden urge to suck on, scrape his teeth across the thin skin of his neck. Scruff graces his jaw and Ryan aches to feel its scratch against his mouth, against his thighs.

The moan Shane lets out at the taste of his coffee is so sinful that Ryan almost smashes his knee into his desk in his haste to cross his legs. When Shane finally looks at him again it’s with the coffee cup cradled delicately in his grasp, the brightest smile Ryan has ever seen adorning his face.

“Apology accepted.” He says, saluting Ryan with the cup. Ryan rolls his eyes, a huff of breath leaving him in a rush.

“Oh thank God.” Shane’s laugh is loud and seems to bounce around the office until it’s the only thing Ryan can hear.

“It’s fine Ryan.” He says, reaching out a palm to rest on Ryan’s knee. He sucks in a breath, cripplingly aware of the point of contact between them and Shane’s suddenly earnest tone. “We all say things we don’t mean in the heat of the moment.”

Ryan blinks at him, a ringing in his ears drowning out all rational thought.

“Who says?” He asks, allowing a smirk to curl at the corner of his mouth. Okay maybe the charm offensive is a little about getting into Shane’s pants, or at least getting under his skin, getting a glimpse of Shane Madej without the calm and nonplussed facade.

“What?” Shane asks, his gaze dropping fleetingly to Ryan’s mouth and a twisted sense of delight starts to flutter inside his ribcage like a hummingbird.

“Who says I didn’t mean it?” Shane chokes on a sip of his coffee, coughing and spluttering, a weary look of surprise and intrigue slapped across his face.

“Wh-what?” He gasps, desperately trying to suck in air. Ryan just laughs, brushing teasing fingertips across Shane’s shoulders as he stands to retrieve his own coffee from the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

Shane’s morning starts with an apology coffee and a heart attack. He watches, mouth agape as Ryan saunters away. There’s a distinct sway to his hips, and Shane is almost hypnotised by each sultry step. He only manages to look away once Ryan has rounded the corner and disappeared out of sight. Then he’s simply left alone to stare at his monitor and wonder what the fuck just happened.

It could be just a bit, now that Ryan knows Shane has forgiven him it’s easier to joke about it all. But Shane knows what Ryan is like when he’s serious, has sat on the sidelines of dozens of Ryan’s charm offensives, wooing women and men alike. This is the real deal. He can’t for the life of him think of why Ryan might suddenly be interested in him, of all people.

Sure there's always been... Tension. A push and pull between them born from their differences, their similar sense of humour creating an endless parade of backhanded compliments. Any real appreciation, attraction has gone nowhere, always masked in about 10 layers of sarcasm.

This is different. This is explicit and Shane is still thinking about it when Ryan returns with his own coffee, slipping into his seat with a bright smile and a wink. Shane lets out a disbelieving laugh, unable to contain his own smile as his heart flutters nervously in his chest.

He can't pinpoint the moment that something changed, when they went from colleagues to best buds and then best buds whose eyes wander, fingertips fluttering over the line between platonic affection and something else, something lascivious, with potential for all kinds of wonders and disasters. It scares the shit out of him, something that feels so inevitable but unpredictable. The niggling sense of youthful insecurity carried annoyingly into his thirties that this is some joke, that when Shane makes a move Ryan will respond with laughter.

He feels bad for even thinking it. Sure, Ryan has struggled with affection before, Shane has been by his side as he embarked on his journey to accepting his attraction to men, has been on the receiving end of instinctual 'no homo-ing’ too many times to count. What Shane fears isn't Ryan, he's grown into himself, freer with his affections and comfortable with himself. Ryan wouldn't tease someone like that.

Shane is self aware enough to know it's his own shoddy ideas of self worth rearing their ugly head that scare him. Ryan is so bright, so warm and open, so delightfully dorky despite his fratboy roots. It's hard not to love him.

The day continues like any other apart from the sheer overwhelming amount of flirting Shane bears the brunt of. He spends the majority of his time squirming in his seat, gritting his teeth against the wicked words he wants to utter in reply to Ryan's every innuendo. They build up within him like a ten car pile up, clogging his throat until he's spitting out his words like scraps of metal flying from the wreckage. It drives him to distraction, frustration mounting as he fails to even be able to concentrate on answering emails.

He’s actually relieved when their slot to film the next episode of true crime rolls around. Shooting the episode doesn’t leave a lot of room for any shenanigans that aren’t purely for the camera but because this is Ryan and because their crew are all dirty enablers except for TJ who looks on in amused disapproval, he finds a way. They generally try to keep cuts and breaks to a minimum, finding the episodes flow better when there are minimal interruptions to their often gruesome tales. Still, in the fleeting moments between takes Ryan somehow manages to drop enough innuendos to keep Shane on his toes. He goes so far as to slip a hand onto his knee beneath the desk and Shane startles so hard he slams his other knee into the wood, earning him a squeeze to his denim clad thigh and the sound of Ryan’s raucous laughter echoing in his ears.

Filming is a blur, and Shane struggles once again to concentrate. Zoning out to the sonorous sound of Ryan’s voice, trying valiantly to conjure his own thoughts and theories so as not to simply sit and gape. It’s futile and he’s sure everyone can see the rapture clear as day in his eyes as he stares at Ryan as he calls it a day.

The crew twirl around him, packing up with practised ease, Ryan conducting them alongside TJ and Devon like the conductors of a world renowned symphony. He should probably help, contribute something, but he can’t move, breaths coming shallow and unsteady. He blinks and then it’s just them, Ryan sinking back into his seat beside him with an air of forced nonchalance.

“If you keep this up I’m gonna lose my mind.” He mumbles, staring dazedly into the middle distance.

“Driving you crazy, am I big guy?” He smiles, playing coy. Shane rolls his eyes.

“I’m afraid I’m gonna start getting association boners. Every time I hear about some grizzly murder I’m gonna pop a semi cause of your antics.” He admits, hoping that the more candidly he speaks the less truth Ryan will find in his words.

“Hey,” Ryan replies, grin becoming lopsided as his eyes grow heavy and dark, “whatever you’re into big guy.”

“Ryan...”

“Who knows, maybe I’ll let you get - _into_ \- me.” He says with a wink and it’s awful. Shane is sure it’s the worst thing he’s ever heard. His cock throbs in the confines of his jeans even as he rolls his eyes. It’s the opposite of sexy, it doesn’t even make _sense_ , but he can feel the heat of his answering flush crawling across his cheeks.

“These lines are getting a little dire Ryan,” he says offhandedly, his jaw clenched, “it's probably a sign you've run this bit into the ground buddy.”

“What bit?” Ryan says, swivelling his chair to face him. He tilts his head demurely, exposing the column of his throat. It's the oldest trick in the book but damn it it's working. Shane grips the arms of his chair tightly, knuckles white.

“C'mon Ry, be serious.”

“That's rich coming from you big guy.” He grins, no sign of remorse shadowing his features. Shane just stares, studying him and Ryan's smile morphs into a smirk, something that has Shane's blood simmering, threatening to boil over.

Shane kisses him. It’s bruising and with too much teeth.

“Is this what you want?” He says between kisses, stealing Ryan's breath with every one until all he can see think and feel is Shane. “You win Ryan. You've broken me. You'll get what you want.” He surges forward again and the moan Ryan let's out as he clutches him close is wanton and loud. His fingers find their way into Shane's hair, tugging sharply as Shane works his way across his jaw.

“Fuck yes.” Ryan hisses arching in his chair to keep Shane's lips against his skin. He whines when Shane pulls back, a frown marring his features as he stands but then Shane is yanking him upright before pushing him back onto the desk, case notes and knickknacks tumbling to the floor as Shane manhandles him.

Shane pushes his thighs open and settles himself between them, draping his lithe body over Ryan's until they're chest to chest. Ryan can feel his hard-on against his thigh and he shivers.

“Is this what you want?” Shane asks, voice like grit as his hand skates down Ryan's body to thumb at the button of his jeans. He asks because he knows this is exactly what Ryan had been pushing for but also just to ask, to be _sure_.

“Yes,” Ryan hisses, “fuck please Shane want it.” He babbles as Shane pauses to palm at him. Shane chuckles darkly, pulling the collar of his tee down so he can work a mark into his collarbone.

“Couldn't have just asked? You're such a brat.” Ryan’s arms wrap around him, one hand burying itself in his hair as the other clutches desperately at his shoulder blade.

“Where’s th-” He gasps as Shane pops the button of his jeans free, the slow drag of the zipper lowering the faintest whisper of friction against his cock, an infuriating tease. “Where’s the fun in that?” He manages to get out as Shane shoves his tee up to his armpits, mouth drawn to his chest like it’s magnetised to Ryan’s skin. Ryan shifts to try and take it off but Shane makes a disgruntled sound in the back of his throat before pinning him down. As much as he aches to have him naked they don’t have time, this is happening now, there’s no telling how long this- this _spell_ \- will last before the illusion dissipates and they’re just two friends that accidentally engaged in a sexy game of chicken.

No, the broad expanse of Ryan’s exposed chest is enough and Shane maps it with his tongue, biting at his pecs and the tender skin of his navel. That sweet ache unfurls in his abdomen, coiling up his spine and making the nape of his neck tingle with heat as he rolls his hips against Ryan’s thigh, fingertips dancing distractedly across the bulge in Ryan’s jeans. He wants him to beg, wants to claw back some semblance of control. If Ryan wanted to rile him up, he’s succeeded but Shane is determined to make him wait just a little longer for what he truly needs. Ryan’s needy whine is music to his ears and he pulls him into an indulgent kiss with gentle fingertips under his chin.

“What do you want, baby?” He asks, and mentally cringes at how seedy it sounds, straight out of some workplace themed porno. Ryan doesn’t seem to notice, biting his lip and rolling his hips. Shane pins them to the desk, marvelling at his large pale hands spread out against Ryan’s bronze skin where his open pants have slipped downward.

“Shane.” Ryan grits out, scowling up at him. Shane laughs, a bright staccato sound at how adorably disgruntled he looks, spread out and pinned to the hardwood of their desk.

“I know you think it’s fun to tease,” Shane starts, inching his hands closer to where Ryan craves it with every word “but with me sweetheart,” he tugs Ryan’s pants and underwear down to his knees slowly, relishing the hiss he lets out as the cotton of his boxers drags across his hard cock, “you don’t ask, you don’t get.”

He gets a hand in Ryan’s hair, tipping it back so he can mouth at his throat as his fingertips dance over the thin skin pulled taut across his hips. He waits, feels the ripple of Ryan’s body beneath him as he tries not to thrash, fights the urge to use all the strength Shane knows he has to flip their positions and _take_. But they both know this is what he wants, a sliver of pride and the sweet anticipation making him bite his tongue.

He lasts longer than Shane had thought he would but a bite to the soft spot just below his ear has him reaching out, clutching at Shane like a life preserver.

“Please.” He mutters quiet and sweet and Shane hovers above him, smiles like he’s just been handed the most precious gift.

“Please what Ry?” Shane asks, his voice laced with so much sweetness it’s saccharine to his own ears. Ryan’s eyes flutter shut, almost going limp but for the death grip he has on Shane’s shoulders. He gives in so beautifully, that Shane is willing to give in too even if he hadn’t uttered his next words.

“Touch me.” He mumbles and Shane obliges, granting mercy and he wraps a hand around him, tight and firm. He lets Ryan do most of the work at first, thrusting into Shane’s fist as he trembles against the wood. It slides a little across the tiled floor of the studio and Shane prays that the likely IKEA sourced desk will hold up against their combined weights. He lets go briefly to spit in his palm and the moan Ryan lets out when he curls his long fingers back around him and squeezes echoes across set, loud enough for someone walking past to hear. He speeds up his hand, panting into the sweat slick crook of Ryan’s neck as Ryan’s groans grow deep and staccato. He muffles his own whine into the skin there, worries it between his teeth until it’s angry and red.

“Fuck Ry,” he breathes, “you want them to hear? Want everyone to know I’m jerking you off on our desk? That you’re fucking my fist like you’re desperate for it, desperate for anything I’ll give you.” Shane twists his wrist just so, just beneath the head of Ryan’s cock, now slick with Shane’s saliva and his own precum. A dam breaks and Ryan moans, a loud and wanton sound that has Shane’s ears ringing. Shane loses himself in the undulations of Ryan beneath him, muttering a multitude of sins into the skin of his throat.

Little noises escape Ryan with every tightening stroke. He rolls his hips desperately, chasing the friction, the building pressure in the base of his spine.

“C’mon baby.” Shane whispers, head tilted down to watch the slide of Ryan’s cock, thick and shiny. “So gorgeous Ry fuck.” He groans and Ryan seems to spasm at the sound of his whispered praise, muscles bunching and coiling tight until he’s arching his back. He comes, a bitten off groan chiming out and bouncing off the bookcase, ricocheting and ringing in Shane’s ears like a gunshot. He spills over Shane’s hand and Shane dazedly brings it to his mouth, tasting him. Ryan’s body trembles and when his eyes flutter open they fall immediately to Shane licking his hand clean, chasing the come down his wrist before it stains the cuff of his shirt.

The moan he lets out is weak and vaguely distressed sounding and it makes Shane laugh as he straightens up, will to hide his straining erection gone. Ryan looks well fucked, his hair a mess, all bright eyes and kiss bitten lips. Shane stares, wanting to remember, wanting the image in front of him to be the thing he sees every time he so much as blinks.

Ryan huffs out a bashful laugh, almost disbelieving but there’s no sign of regret, disgust. He looks happy and that’s okay, that’s good, that’s all Shane wants.

Shane stands there awkwardly as Ryan shuffles his boxers and pants back up his hips and tugs down his rucked up t-shirt. Then he sits, perched almost daintily on the edge of the desk, feet not quite touching the ground. He tugs Shane in by a loose hand curled in the hem of his shirt and Shane falls into the kiss, lets him suck the taste of himself off of his tongue.

They break apart abruptly when Ryan shoves him back. Shane loses his balance, trips and falls heavily into his chair with a soft ‘oof’. Ryan grins at the look of dumbfounded surprise no doubt colouring Shane’s face and he slinks off of the desk and onto his knees, settling happily between Shane’s parted thighs, his warm hands crawling up his inseams.

“Now,” he says, looking a mess as sweet as sin, “let me.”

 


	4. IV. Gluttony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gluttony  
> /ˈɡlʌt(ə)ni/  
>  _noun_  
>  1\. Habitual greed.  
> 2\. Selfishness  
> 3\. The overindulgence and over-consumption of anything to the point of waste

 

 

Shane can see the face of God in the blinding white haze of the studio lights. He pants, his breathing loud in his own ears as he slumps in his chair.

“You still with me big guy?” Ryan's voice says tenderly and Shane rolls his head listlessly to look down at him. He's still on his knees, his mouth a puffy and spit slick mess, his hair an absolute riot of dark curls from where Shane's hands have tugged at it mercilessly. His smile is sweet and sated, a gentle hand petting soothingly at Shane's thigh.

“You just sucked my brain out through my dick.” He hears himself mumble dazedly as he struggles to tuck himself back into his jeans. Ryan's laugh is loud and bright, fondness and pride shimmering in his big brown eyes. Shane is besotted. “How'd you get that good at sucking dick?” Shane asks as Ryan climbs to his feet.

He laughs again, and Shane never gets tired of being the punchline to whatever joke has that sound chiming through the air.

“How does anyone get good at anything?” He says grinning. He perches back on the edge of the desk and rolls Shane's chair toward him with an ankle hooked around a leg. “Practice!” He chirps, pushing Shane's hair back from his forehead and tucking it behind his ear, fingertips brushing the delicate shell making him shiver. Shane sucks in a sharp breath, a reaction that doesn't escape Ryan.

“Oh ho ho!” He exclaims “Is that curiosity or jealousy I'm detecting?” Shane simply smiles, the heat of Ryan's goading returned to a subtle flame in the aftermath.

“Both.” Shane says, brazen, taking a chance. Ryan smiles, delighted.

“Spent a lot of time thinking about me sucking cock have we? Wondering how many times I've dropped to my knees?”

“Ryan...” He says warningly, sure that if it was possible his dick would be rock hard again from the sound of Ryan's voice alone.

“What dish it out but can't take it can we?”

“Oh I can take it alright.” Shane drawls. He relishes how dark Ryan's eyes become, licking his lips as if the thought is irresistible.

“I bet you can,” Ryan replies “bet you love wrapping those long legs around someone, bet Sara pegged you once or twice.” Shane laughs loudly, the sound of his mirth bouncing around their little office as he stretches his aforementioned long legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles.

“More than once or twice.” He says casually and Ryan splutters, all but thrumming with lust right in front of Shane's eyes.

“You kinky motherfucker.”

“Oh that ain't nothing baby.” Shane coos, standing up from his chair and stretching, feeling his joints crack and grind in protest. He moves smoothly around the desk, feeling the heat of Ryan's gaze burning the nape of his neck as he stoops to pick up the trinkets they'd sent clattering to the ground. “She's really very good,” he comments wistfully, “but she's moved on to bigger and better things.”

“God help her if they're bigger.” Ryan mutters startling a laugh from Shane.

“Are you talking about me in general or my dick?” Ryan rolls his eyes but blushes all the same. He looks at him from over his shoulder and Shane plants his palms flat on the desk leaning in close.

“Trust me she could take it,” he whispers, laying it on thick to the point where Ryan's irises look almost like onyx, shiny and swallowed by the black of his pupils, “and after that little display, I'm sure you could too.”

He leans back, a bright grin plastered across his face as Ryan blinks slowly.

“You son of a bitch.” He grumbles, wiggling on his perch on the desk.

“C'mon little guy,” he winks “we've got work to do.”

 

* * *

 

Surprisingly, they do actually talk about it. It's probably the most uncomfortable conversation they've had sober and Shane has had to leave a shoot after literally shitting himself so it's really up there. They're sitting across from each other in a dimly lit bar each nursing beers that are sweating almost as much as they are. They voice those age old fears, losing their friendship, losing professionalism, losing the show. These fears aren’t assuage so much as veiled in a thin layer of platitudes.

_“Of course it won’t make things awkward.”_

_“Strictly no more fooling around at work, we’ve worked too hard to throw it away for a quickie.”_

_“It’s just sex, no strings.”_

_“You’re my best friend, I won’t let anything change that.”_

Only half these banal assurances are true. The 'no more fooling around at work’ gets thrown out the window pretty quickly. Ryan can't resist the risk, riling Shane up where everyone can see what he does to him. Bathrooms and supply closets hold their secrets, elicit rendezvous conducted in confined spaces, just a door between them and the rest of the world. Shane can’t pretend that he isn’t also to blame, giving as good as he gets at every opportunity.

Unsolved is still priority, and they at least keep their trysts off of set, something about their little office seeming too precious after the first time. Shane may remember vividly what it felt like to have Ryan spread out before him on the desk every time he sits at it but the set feels like a monument to everything they’ve built together, something it feels like they soil by fooling around there. It’s silly, they’re breaking plenty of rules already but this seems to be one unspoken rule they both won’t break.

Still Ryan is the one at the helm, pushing and tugging them closer together until Shane is desperate for him. It truly doesn’t make things awkward, just another layer to the weird and wonderful thing they already had going on. When movie nights used to end with them asleep on the couch it now ends with Ryan riding him until the tired springs beneath the couch cushions groan in protest and Shane is not complaining.

Shane crumbles every time. Every time Ryan smiles at him just so, he itches with that want, that craving in his gut, a mindless muttering need of ‘closer’. It’s easy, so easy that Shane forgets to worry, forgets to overthink. Their ‘arrangement’ has become such a seamless part of who they are now that Shane is starting to forget that it wasn’t always like this, easy intimacy sprinkled with sarcastic barbs that have them laughing into each others’ mouths. The only fear Shane has is what it’ll be like when this stops, how he copes when everything he’s ever wanted is stripped away and he’s back at the start. He’s desperate to have as much as he can for as long as he can.

It’s all just a blur. Condensation on beer bottles and the sound of Ryan’s voice, dim lights and closets. They stumble back to his apartment, arms slung around each others’ waists and Shane pretends. Pretends this is love, that the strings are attached and wrapped around them, tying them up and knotting them together until they can only be cut apart.

He falls back onto his bed, laughing as Ryan crawls over him, settles himself between his spread thighs. His riotous dark hair falls into bright eyes. Shane falls into a kiss, closes his eyes, rolls his hips and pretends.

 

* * *

 

Ryan wakes with Shane’s face pressed to his chest, his arms and legs wrapped around him like some kind of grabby octopus. He looks down at him, feels his snore vibrate against his sternum and thinks 'oh fuck.’

He is blissfully warm beneath the covers, Shane's weight a grounding force in the darkness, helping him melt effortlessly into the mattress beneath them. He blindly reaches for the night stand and his phone, checking the time in the grey light of Shane’s bedroom. It’s just gone 3AM and it’s a Friday, there’s no work tomorrow and no telling what the morning will bring.

Out of the dozens of times they’ve done this he’s stayed maybe a handful, always slipping out while Shane sleeps. With every encounter the urge to stay has grown and as he looks down at Shane in the half light he knows that this time he’ll wake up to him.

Shane looks so young like this, tucked against Ryan, his face the picture of serenity besides the silly gape of his snoring mouth. He strokes a gentle hand through his unruly hair, careful not to wake him and Shane shuffles closer, nose sweetly skimming Ryan’s collarbone.

He doesn’t know what possessed him to start this, to push the buttons that started them on this path. He knows the affection he feels looking down at the man wrapped around him isn’t just a complicated mixture of lust and friendship. He never has been the friends with benefits type, why he thought it would be any different because it’s Shane is beyond him.

What had been about thrill, about risk, about sparking something in someone who often seems so immovable has evolved into something quieter, something so seamless that it could’ve been there from the start. The greatest risk he’s taken in weeks is his decision to stay right where he is till morning. Shane’s snores rumble through his chest and he wonders if he’ll ever be able to let this go now that he knows what it feels like to have the big guy cling to him. When Shane finds someone else how will he be able to look at them knowing that they’ll know what it feels like too, that he’s no longer the only one.

He’s inching toward something by staying, and he doesn’t want to think about his reasons, doesn’t want to think about the awkwardness that could arise come morning. He just wants to pretend. He shifts down the bed until they’re lying opposite each other, sharing a pillow. He nudges Shane’s nose with his, watches it wrinkle in his sleep before his expression slackens again. He closes his eyes and pretends.

 


	5. V. Envy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Envy  
> /ˈɛnvi/  
>  _noun_  
>  1) A sad or resentful covetousness towards the traits or possessions of someone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh I'm so sorry there's been a delay for this updated. I've just started therapy so I've got a lot going on! We're pretty close to the end now though so I hope you enjoy the ride and thank you for following along so far!

 

Shane is not a morning person. He’s tried, by God has he tried, but he hasn’t got the will, the get up and go attitude needed to forsake the warm comfort of his bed and surrender the soles of his feet to the cold, unforgiving floor. But he’s never woken up to the early morning sunshine lighting up Ryan Bergara’s face on the pillow opposite his own. He could give being a morning person another shot if this is what it got him.

He knows he can be a little like an octopus in his sleep, sue him, he’s grabby and has long limbs. He’s surprised he’s even face to face with Ryan and not inexplicably wrapped around his knees. But,  _God_ is it a sight to behold. He just looks so fucking... _Stupid_.

His face is somehow squished so hard into the pillow that the features that aren’t obscured by the cotton are dragged upward. His mouth hangs open, not quite snores whistle past his teeth, a cute high pitched sound. His hair is what Shane loves the most though, fluffy and wild, half spread out on the pillow whilst the other half obscures his closed eyes. Shane reaches out tentatively to push it back and huffs out a laugh, barely more than a breath, at how much the bed-mussed curls make him look like a crazed professor.

It’s just nice to see him so unguarded, to be trusted with him at his most vulnerable. He’s witnessed it before, on location, in shared hotel rooms, but wrapped up with him, skin against skin in Shane’s bed feels like he’s been let into an inner sanctum, to look upon sights he could never have dreamed of. There’s sanctuary beneath the sheets, Ryan’s sleepy, whistling breaths a hymn of exaltation.

Ryan has stayed the night. Shane tries not to think about what it could mean. He tries not to be greedy, to be happy with what he has. Still he finds himself jealous of the couples he knows, the people that get to have this every day of their lives.

Instead, he just watches as the grey, early morning light crawls across his bedroom, draping itself across Ryan’s face inch by inch as Ryan snuffles in his sleep. He stretches, a sure sign he’s waking up, and opens one eye with what seems a gargantuan amount of effort. A bright, brown eye blearily rolls around in its socket before focusing on Shane.

“Good morning, creep.” He grumbles, sleep deep and rough. He smiles, a small thing hiding at the corner of his mouth. Shane can feel his own lips twitch at the sight of it.

“I was contemplating smothering you in your sleep.”

“Then who would suck your dick?” Ryan asks with a smirk. Shane barks out a laugh rolling onto his back.

“I’m sure there’d be someone.” He says flippantly, _sarcastically_ , as if there’d be a line around the block, _as if_. Ryan falls silent.

“Right.” He says quietly and he isn’t smiling anymore as he clambers out of bed, naked as the day he was born. “Coffee?” He asks not looking at Shane as he shimmies his way into boxers. Shane is almost too preoccupied with picking his jaw up off the floor to answer him.

“You know where it is.” He says instead of the ‘please’ that had teetered on the tip of his tongue. Ryan shuffles out of the room and down the hall and Shane is left alone in his bed, the joy at having woken up to the love of his life slowly being swallowed by complete confusion.

The brief moment, a minute’s slip, sets them up for a morning that just feels off. They drink coffee in their boxers in Shane’s kitchen and it's awkward, a far cry from the glowing morning after Shane has always dreamed of. When he’d allowed himself to indulge in fantasy and fancy it was all warm and golden, bitter coffee sweetened by the taste of Ryan’s mouth, warm, smooth skin pressed against his as they lent against the counter and each other, sleepily burning eggs, their laughter melting into the sound of the morning radio.

Instead, all Shane can focus on is how the silence that swaddles them isn’t comfortable but suffocating. The only warmth he feels is the steaming cup held between his hands, blissful in comparison to how cold his bare feet are against the hard kitchen tile. Ryan mutters idly about their schedule for the work day before disappearing back toward Shane’s room. He doesn’t stick around to shower, simply reappears in his clothes from the night before, jamming his feet into his shoes by the door as he frantically searches his pockets for his keys, like he’s desperate to leave.

Something clenches in Shane’s gut but he breathes through it. The illusion has shattered and he feels like he’s watching the regret settle within Ryan in real time, watching him slip through his fingers as he slides through Shane’s front door with a muttered ‘see you at work.’

 

* * *

 

Ryan stews all morning. He gets to work before Shane but spends most of the time staring into space, waiting for his arrival. When he finally clocks in, just on time, he meets Ryan’s eyes with a small, nervous smile, shoulders hunched a little. Ryan can't bring himself to speak to him and it has nausea clawing at his gut.

He's done nothing wrong, it's not even a big deal. If it wasn't him doing this with Shane it would be someone else. They aren't together, they aren't dating. It’s an arrangement of convenience, efficiency, and it works because they know that.  _Ryan_ knows that. But the thought of Shane with someone else makes him want to burn half of L.A. to the ground. There isn't even anyone else, not that Ryan knows of and that is another possibility Ryan had, until now, managed not to think about. Shane might be seeing other people, they aren't with each other every second of every day even though they're damn near it.

He'd be a fool to think no one else would be interested in Shane. He's a catch, all long lean lines, boyish smiles and messy hair. He knows there's no shortage of people that'd like to climb Shane like a tree and feels a surge of pride that he's climbed that beanstalk multiple times by now. He's seen the way people look at him, like they'd love for him to tower over them and crowd close, hungry gazes lighting up like Shane hung the moon every time he makes them laugh. Ryan knows these looks because it’s almost like looking in a mirror. He knows it's the same way he looks at Shane, always wanting, always in awe, always looking up.

Shane gives him a wide berth all morning until he takes his usual seat by his side at their production meeting in the afternoon. A large, warm palm finds its way onto his thigh beneath the desk and a smile twitches at the corner of Ryan’s mouth unbidden. He sighs and vows to let go. Shake off the vicious jealousy.

That is until they wrap up the meeting and a new friendly face corners Shane on the way out. Ryan had hoped they could make a quick trip to the supply closet on the second floor before heading back to the bullpen but the new intern has set her sights on Shane. He can’t hear anything she’s saying but he notes the hand she has lightly touching his bicep or the way she flicks her hair back over her shoulder as she laughs. Shane just stands there, chatting idly, his hands jammed into his pockets until she offers him her phone. He takes it with a smile, one Ryan hates himself for thinking charming, and inputs something, no doubt his number. His face feels hot and he busies himself with his stuff, shoving things into his bag so as not to be caught staring.

It takes a while for Shane to return to gather up his own things and soon enough they’re alone.

“Sooooo...” Shane drawls, wrapping himself around him from behind and planting a kiss to the underside of his jaw that makes him shiver “Supply closet?” Ryan contemplates it, weighs up the pros and cons of simply returning to the bullpen without the detour. He thinks of the smile on Shane’s face as the intern had laughed at whatever dumb joke he’d told. It’s only a matter of time before Ryan won’t be able to smile like that anymore, only a matter of time before there’s no supply closets or bathroom stalls, no mornings in Shane’s bed before the sun comes up.

He turns in the circle of Shane’s arms and leans up on his tiptoes. He kisses him, slower, sweeter than he can remember ever having kissed him before and Shane responds in kind, pulling him in tight against him. When he pulls back he relishes the way Shane’s warm, brown eyes flutter open slowly, dazed and happy.

“What was that for?” He says, voice low and soft, arms still a warm comforting weight around him. Ryan simply shakes his head.

“Supply closet. 5 minutes.”


	6. VI. Greed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greed  
> /ɡriːd/  
>  _noun_  
>  1\. An inordinate or insatiable longing for material gain.  
> 2\. A desire to acquire or possess more than one needs.  
> 3\. Intense and selfish desire for something.

 

Ryan kisses him so hard that Shane cracks his head into the shelving unit behind him but it’s a testament to how thoroughly Ryan is trying to devour him that he barely even winces. Ryan kisses with a single mindedness, an enthusiastic desire to steal Shane’s breath. It’s always eager and Shane melts under the assault unless he wants something else. Right now he’s more than happy to let Ryan have his fill of him. Ryan presses up against him, seemingly trying to slip under his skin. Frantic hands tug his shirt free from his pants and slide beneath. Shane flinches, always does when Ryan’s calloused fingertips first brush against his bare skin. He twitches, the ticklish brush of skin against skin making him shiver.

“Wanna suck you off.” He says against the skin of his throat, voice pitched low. Shane swallows thickly.

“Have at it.” He says around a moan and Ryan tries his hardest to muffle his laughter as he sinks to his knees.

“Have at it? Real sexy dude, really hot.”

“Look y-you know my dirty talk game isn’t the greatest.” He hisses as Ryan pops the button on his jeans, dragging the zipper down inch by inch.

“That’s not even true. You’ve got a filthy mouth.” Ryan says with a smile, pulling down Shane’s underwear. Shane hisses as Ryan wraps a hand around the base of his cock, stroking to the head agonisingly slow and feather light.

“It’s been a long day.” Shane groans, his hips twitching into Ryan’s tentative touch.

“It’s barely noon.” Ryan snorts.

“Look are you gonna suck my dick or use it as a mic for this roast you’ve got going?”

Ryan rolls his eyes but takes the head of Shane’s cock into his mouth, tongue going straight for the sensitive ridge.

Shane stifles a moan, head falling back against the shelves of stationary. He tangles a hand in Ryan’s unruly hair, watching with heavy lidded eyes as Ryan takes more of him, silky heat enveloping his cock. Shane’s fingers tighten involuntarily and Ryan moans, shuffling forward to take more of him. Shane is mesmerized by the dramatic sweep of Ryan’s eyelashes against his flushed cheeks, his spit slick lips, cherry red and stretched around his cock. He tugs on Ryan’s hair and groans as he picks up the pace, tongue trying to curl against the weight of him as he guides him with the hand clutching at his hair. He can’t help but twitch his hips forward, shallow aborted thrusts into Ryan’s greedy mouth.

Ryan’s hand falls away from the base of his cock and clutch at his hips, urging him to fuck his mouth. Shane grunts as he slides deeper. The sounds start to tumble from Ryan, looking up at him with wide glassy eyes as Shane uses his mouth. He twists the tendrils around his long fingers, thrusting deeper as Ryan tries to press the flat of his tongue along the vein on the underside of his cock. He’s distantly aware of his own sounds, grunting like a neanderthal as Ryan just takes it.

“Ryan, Ry, Ry.” He chants Ryan’s name like a prayer before he comes, shaking as he feels Ryan swallow around him. Shane’s hand in Ryan’s hair loosens and guides him off his cock. He watches transfixed as Ryan raises a hand to touch his lips, tacky with remnants of spit and come; a vivid red. He tucks himself away and pulls Ryan to his feet, gathering him up in his arms and kissing him deep and filthy, tasting the remnants of himself on his tongue.

“Do you- I can-” He mumbles against his mouth and Ryan huffs out a laugh.

“No I uh handled it.” He says, cheeks tinting a vibrant pink. Shane hears static for a moment.

“That’s so fucking hot.” He groans, peppering Ryan’s face with kisses.

“It doesn’t feel hot.” Ryan replies, wrinkling his nose at the growing discomfort in his pants. “Cut it out!” He adds, pushing weakly at Shane’s chest as he continues his assault but he’s smiling. “We’ve gotta get back to work.”

Ryan loops his arms around Shane’s neck not looking at all like he wants to return to the bullpen. Shane shrugs and nudges their noses together.

“It’s just past noon. We’re out to lunch.”

 

* * *

 

Shane is moments away from calling Ryan and asking if he wants to come over when his phone vibrates in his hand from a call from the man himself.

“Hey man,” he says, trying to ignore the way his voice shakes, “I was just gonna call and see if you wanted to come over.”

“Why?” Ryan’s voice crackles through the phone and Shane frowns in confusion.

“Why do you usually come over? For corn and ‘flix, ‘flix and corn and beer and...” He trails off, the ‘and for me to fuck you into the mattress’ left unsaid but heavily implied.

“I thought you’d be out with that intern tonight.” Ryan says, sounding waspish, and  Shane frowns so hard in confusion he’s starting to give himself a headache. He pinches the bridge of his nose, tilting his head back against the arm of his couch.

“What intern? Why would I be out with an intern tonight?”

Ryan laughs but it sounds off, too rough and too sharp.

“Don’t play dumb-”

“I’m not I’m-”

“The intern that asked for your number at the production meeting.”

“What?”

“You know... She probably said something like, ‘oh hey Shane can I just get your number, you know, _for work_.’” Ryan mocks. Shane barks out a laugh, heaving wheezing breaths into the couch cushions.

“You’re insane,” he huffs “and I gave her my email, my _work_ email.” Ryan falls silent and Shane’s stomach flips as if he’s just crested the peak of the world’s highest roller coaster, hope swooping fast through his veins. “Ryan, Ryan, _Ryan_ ,” he says, a smile in his voice “are you _jealous_?”

Silence.

“No.”

“Ryan I-”

“You should go for it man, she’s hot.”

“Ryan-”

“We’re not together we can call it quits if you want-

“I don’t.”

“We aren’t together.” Ryan says and it sounds angry. Shane can’t take it anymore.

“You’ve made that _abundantly_ clear Ryan.” He spits and listens as Ryan stutters toward something to say. “Believe it or not I’d rather spend my time with you, doing just about anything, than spend it trying to get into the pants of some intern who’s name I can’t even remember. But I guess that’s where our priorities differ.” He adds venomously. “If you want out because you want to date or you’ve found a better fuck, a better offer then fine but don’t turn that shit on me.”

“Shane that’s not-”

“Don’t Ryan, for once just don’t. That’s it bud, free trial’s up. See you Monday.”

He hangs up.

So it goes. It ends not with a bang but with a dial tone and 12 missed calls. He’s just had enough, enough pretending, enough of Ryan redrawing the boundaries over and over again like he knew this meant something to Shane and he’s been trying to minimise the fall out for when he gets bored or starts to think about that white picket fence life that Shane isn’t a part of. He has reminded him so often it’s as if he feared Shane would cross that boundary undeniably, like he didn’t trust Shane to not let an ‘I love you’ slip.

In the supply closet, after the production meeting, Ryan had kissed him like they were running out of time. Shane’s always kissed Ryan like that, aware from the beginning that this thing between them came with an expiration date. He just hadn’t known when. When Ryan kissed him like that he should’ve known it would be soon.

He has the weekend to let his heart break, or lock it back up in the strong box of his ribcage.

 

* * *

 

Ryan tries. He calls and he texts all weekend but... Nothing. He curses himself for acting so jealously, realising in his confusion that he’s finally managed to push Shane away when all he’d really wanted was to pull him closer.

He’d just needed more time to wrangle his thoughts into something that made sense, to know definitively if it was just lust or something else. It should have been obvious that he’d ended up in love with an idiot. He’d thought he’d have time to figure out what to do about it. It seems Shane has made the decision for him, despite the words that continue to ring in his ears like the chiming of church bells.

 

_“Believe it or not I’d rather spend my time with you, doing just about anything.”_

 

Ryan goes to work on Monday morning and it’s as if nothing had happened. There are, however, a few noticeable differences. Shane is already there, sitting hunched over at his desk with his headphones jammed over his ears. Ryan takes one look at him and heads toward the office kitchen instead of stopping off at his desk first as he usually does.

Shane stares when Ryan places a cup of coffee on his side of their shared desk. He blinks at it, surprised and confused and tired.

“Thanks.” He mutters quietly, his fingers twitching around his mouse. His hand moves toward it, slowly, sluggishly. He takes a sip with a small smile, a shadow of his roguish grin and Ryan’s heart seizes painfully in his chest at the sight of it. Shane slips his headphones off.

“Hi” He says softly.

“Hi” Ryan replies “Shane can we-”

“No Ryan.” Shane says wearily. “What’s done is done.”

He takes a long sip of his coffee and Ryan watches, transfixed, the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows, a visceral memory of kissing it rising to the forefront of his mind. He realises this is what it’ll be like now, every moment like film double exposed, the present time layered over a time when they were something else.

“It was one hell of a ride.” He says with a wink, the phantom of what they were, hiding in the corner of his mouth, the crinkles at the edge of warm brown eyes.

It was one hell of a ride.

 

* * *

 

Days pass and a semblance of normality returns to them. Their smiles are smaller, their laughter quieter, but they’re the same as always. Ryan tries to convince himself it’ll just take time, but he worries, terrified he’s done irreparable damage to them, given up his closest friendship and failed at pursuing something more.

Shane hasn’t been to Ryan’s apartment in weeks and he declines again.

“You’ve been turning down my invites for weeks dude.” Ryan frowns, his frustration mounting. Shane sighs. He takes off his glasses and drops them unceremoniously onto the coffee table where they’ve set up shop in the staff lounge for the past hour and a half.

“I’ve been turning down _everyone’s_ invites Ry.” He says. Ryan makes a noise that suggests he doesn’t believe him.

Shane snaps his laptop shut and turns to him, his gaze sharp.

“I’ve gotta compile enough content, good, solid content, for the next season of Ruining History. There’s a meeting next week to determine its future and if I don’t show up with scripts, boards, production notes and a convincing enough pitch that’s _it_ , it’s over, my passion project gets cancelled.” Shane scrubs a hand over his face, pale and drawn and exhausted. Guilt claws at Ryan that he’d barely even noticed. He didn’t even know about the meeting and he’s a regular on the fucking show.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah well,” Shane sighs, starting to pack his things away, “You should be. Not everything is about you Ryan.” His voice is sharp despite the exhaustion that saturates his every word. Ryan recoils like he’s been hit even though he knows he’s earnt a few harsh words.

Shane crumbles. The bitterness leaches from him and Shane just looks fragile, cracked open.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, “I’m just- frustrated... Confused. You wanted to end our- our _thing_ , but now you’re pissy I haven’t come over in a while.” He trails off and takes a deep breath, eyes flicking towards the door as if checking if they’ll be overheard or interrupted.

“It’s tiring Ry. I think I know what you want and then you go and change your mind. Change your mind about this, about- about me.” Shane’s voice cracks and he looks lost as he stares down at his fingers, interlocked in a nervous knot and resting in his lap. Ryan can hear his heart pounding, hear the rush of blood in his ears until the silence starts to ring.

Shane sighs, moving to stand. Ryan grabs his wrist, desperate to make him stay. Shane looks at him in surprise, fear and confusion warring behind his eyes.

“I thought I was being selfish,” Ryan mumbles, voice so quiet he barely recognises it as his own, “greedy, to want you all the time.”

Shane stares at him mouth agape. Slowly, he pries Ryan’s hand from his wrist and cradles it between his large and clammy palms.

“You think I didn’t want that?” Shane says. The tips of his ears tint pink and he can’t meet Ryan’s gaze. “I want you all the time,” he whispers breathlessly, “anything you’ll give me I’ll take Ry because I’m so fucking gone for you.”

“Shane...”

“I know _feelings_...” he adds with disdain “were never part of the plan and I get if you don’t-”

“I do.” Ryan interrupts.

“You do?” Shane asks, the sweetest look of delighted disbelief lighting up his face

“I do.” Ryan smiles, wide eyed and nodding frantically.

“I now pronounce you husband and husband.” Curly’s voice chimes from the doorway. Ryan doesn’t pull his hand away from Shane’s hold. His smile grows. “Sooooo,” Curly drawls but his smile is sweet and kind, “are you guys down for a double date?”

Ryan looks to Shane for a response but he just shrugs, the ball firmly in Ryan’s court even if hope is written in every line of his face.

“We sure are!” He says and tangles their fingers together. Shane’s smile is blinding.


	7. VII. Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pride  
> /prʌɪd/  
>  _noun_  
>  1) A foolishly and irrationally corrupt sense of one's personal value, status or accomplishments.  
> 2) A feeling or deep pleasure or satisfaction derived from one's own achievements, the achievements of those with whom one is closely associated.  
> 3) Confidence and self-respect as expressed by members of a group.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are folks at the end of the road. Apologies for the wait and thanks so much for following along. R.I.P Ruining History.

 

“Hi.” Shane breathes as he opens his door to Ryan waiting for him on his welcome mat. His lips twitch up in a soft smile and Ryan can’t help but check him out, eyes raking over miles of dark denim clad legs, his nicely fitted jeans adorably cuffed at the ankles. His crisp, white shirt fits him beautifully, the sleeves rolled to his elbows and the collar open revealing Ryan’s favourite spot, the sharp ridge of his clavicle.

“Hi.” Ryan grins, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. Shane just blinks at him and Ryan’s grin only grows. He can’t believe he was once unsure about this.

“You look nice.” He says and Shane flushes to the tips of his ears. A hand moves to nervously push his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose before he realises he’s wearing contacts. It hovers in the air before he moves to run a hand through his hair. A movement he quickly aborts remembering he’s attempted to style it, messy strands tamed away from his forehead. Ryan feels the sudden urge to ruin it for him but he refrains, sure there’ll be time for that later.

Seeing Shane Madej flustered, and by his hand is something he could get used to. Who knew it would be this easy? Ryan can see the panic starting to grind through the gears of Shane’s mind and catches his hand, tangling their fingers together and tugging him out of his apartment. Shane shuts the door distractedly and smiles down at their joined hands.

“You’re supposed to say ‘you look nice too Ryan.’” He says in an approximation of Shane’s voice, deep and dumb sounding.

“You always look nice.” He replies squeezing Ryan’s hand and it’s his turn to blush. He gags but Shane ignores him and pulls him closer to plant a kiss on the top of his head.

“Just so you know,” Ryan starts as they make their way to a small bistro to meet Curly and his new beau, “this is a date. It’s not like, bros that brunch or something.”

“We’re always bros that brunch first and dating after Ry, you know that.” Shane says with a grin that makes his nose scrunch up and his eyes crinkle at the corners. He’s struck suddenly by how lucky he is, how close he came to missing out on this. Ryan is the guy that smile is for. Ryan is the guy that gets to hold his hand, gets to fight with him over who pays for brunch, receives his awkward, small affections, tentative kisses to his temple. He’s lucky that Shane overcame enough insecurity for the both of them because Ryan’s never had it so good.

He watches as if from outside himself as Shane greets Curly and his date, marvelling at how he already has them laughing and at ease.

“This is Ryan my...” He trails off, gesturing vaguely toward him. Ryan raises an eyebrow at him and Shane raises both of his in response, as if asking him to label them and their relationship is too much to ask of him right now. Ryan shrugs and holds out a hand to shake.

“His boyfriend,” he says with pride and feels warm at the sight of Shane’s small, pleased smile, “but it’s our first official date so go easy on us.”

“About time!” Curly crows, eyes watery in a way that Ryan can’t tell if he’s seriously tearing up or if he’s able to cry at will for effect. They take their seats and Shane’s hand finds a way to rest on Ryan’s knee until long after their food arrives.

 

* * *

 

They stumble through the door of Shane’s apartment in the late afternoon, day drunk and light. The afternoon sunlight make Shane’s eyes glimmer hazel, something he hadn't noticed before and he finds himself tripping over his own feet to stay close to him. Shane laughs as Ryan stumbles into him, slipping on the wooden floor with his socked feet. Shane catches him by the waist and holds on, warm and giddy. He could stay like this for hours, ear pressed to Shane’s chest as the last vestiges of golden afternoon sunlight warm him to his core as he listens to the slow and steady beat of Shane’s heart.

He’s proud of them today. They’ve navigated the whole friends to lovers thing pretty well so far. The revelations of ‘oh this is something I can do now’ keep coming and he never gets tired of basking in the affection he’d craved for so long, nor does he ever grow accustomed to Shane’s small smile, surprised and delighted, any time Ryan so much as holds his hand. He’s proud of them for taking this transition in stride and for coming to the conclusion that not a lot had really needed to change. There’s been no seismic shift, they do everything they used to but now just with added kisses and a whispered pet name that neither will ever admit to calling the other. Ryan curses himself for being so dense, for not recognising his feelings for what they are sooner, to save them both the heartache. Standing in the circle of Shane’s arms, he’s just glad they made it here at all.

Ryan breathes out a laugh as Shane starts to rock them from side to side.

“Did you have a good time today?” He asks softly into Ryan’s hair. He sounds so painfully hopeful and Ryan squeezes the arms he has around his waist tighter.

“I had a great time.” He says with a grin. “What about you big guy?” He feels Shane drop a kiss to the top of his head, his answer muffled where his nose is buried in Ryan’s hair.

“It was okay.” He says and Ryan snorts. “Thanks for saying you’re my boyfriend.” He adds, sincere and shy. Ryan pulls back so that he can look at him, palms coming up to cup his face, thumbs brushing tenderly across the flushed skin of his cheeks.

“I _am_ your boyfriend.” He says vehemently, attempting to assuage the doubt he knows Shane has lurking in the corners of his mind. “I’m your boyfriend if you want me to be?” He asks, confidence dwindling, his own doubt clawing its way toward the surface.

“I do.” Shane says quickly, leaning down to kiss him, hard and sure. “Fuck yeah I wanna be your boyfriend.” Ryan laughs into his mouth, tangling fingers into his hair as Shane walks them backward toward the bedroom.

Shane smiles dopily at him, eyes downcast and heavy lidded where they remain glued to his mouth. He never grows tired of that look, craves it and the playful edges of Shane’s want. He lets himself fall when the backs of his knees hits the edge of the mattress and thanks God that Shane manages to catch himself.

“One of these days I’m gonna knee you in the balls if you keep doing that.” He huffs, mouth already attached to his throat as deft fingers make quick work of the buttons of his shirt. Shane grinds against him, the hot denim clad length of him dragging just right against Ryan’s dick.

Ryan’s hum devolves into a groan, arousal dripping through his veins like honey. He pushes weakly at his shoulder to get him to shrug his own shirt off but Shane stubbornly sucks a mark into his collarbone before relenting. Ryan’s hands fall to his thighs, squeezing the muscle that he knows is there. God Shane’s legs are sinful, he loves feeling them wrap around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back, urging him to fuck him faster, harder, loves to feel the muscles bunch and flex beneath his hands as Shane rides him within an inch of his life.

As his fingers attempt to sink through the denim it’s almost as if Shane reads his mind, struggling out his half unbuttoned shirt and hissing at a particularly delicious grind.

“Fuck, wanna ride you.” He groans. Ryan just nods, seizing his opportunity to get his mouth on him when Shane leans over to retrieve the lube from his night stand. He shivers, fingertips missing the drawer’s handle and he scrambles to pull it open.

“Pants off.” He says, looming above him, hips still twitching against Ryan’s own. Ryan bites back a whine.

“Sort of hard to do that whilst you’re still grinding on me like a horny teenager big guy.” He huffs out with a smirk and Shane is up and off him before he can blink. The absence of his heat makes him shiver and his dick throbs from the sudden lack of pressure. Shane is already out of his jeans by the time Ryan has so much as popped the button of his own. In Ryan’s defence he’s distracted by the sight of him, fading light silhouetting him where he towers above the bed, cock hard and long, straining against the dark fabric of his underwear. Shane palms himself with a raised eyebrow, an unspoken ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours’ Ryan has seen a dozen times. He falls for it and is sure, as he thinks every time, there’s gotta be a sexier way to wiggle out of your pants and underwear whilst horizontal.

He strokes himself, a sigh escaping him as he watches the flush in Shane’s cheeks travel down his throat and blossom across his chest. Shane shifts, dragging down his underwear, his cock heavy and flush as he climbs clumsily back up Ryan’s body, planting open mouthed kisses wherever he can reach. Ryan drags him to his mouth by a brutal hand in his hair, swallows the whimper that Shane lets escape. He melts against him, pliant and willing as he traces the fingertips of his free hand down the long, lean expanse of his back, drawing constellations between the little moles he knows are dotted across his pale skin. He can’t help but squeeze an ass cheek and Shane groans twitching against him before laughing into his mouth. Ryan smiles at him as he sits up, rocking back into his hold on his ass.

He’s such a sight to behold, messy hair falling in sweaty strands across his forehead. A flush, sprinkled all the way from his ears to the tip of his nose. What always makes Ryan melt is his smile, boyish and lazy as he arches his back. He looks happy, like he’s having fun and it’s probably a little weird how much watching Shane have the time of his life turns him on. It’s like sex is a joke, just another bit they’ve got going on that they’ll ride to the end.

Shane fumbles for the lube like he’s lost control of his fingers and Ryan laughs at him, skating his hands up his torso as far as he can reach. He’s so damn long but it makes for a beautiful sight, a body that can seem just as elegant as it often does awkward. There’s a lack of restraint, of self consciousness in Shane at times like this that make Ryan unbelievably hot for it. He envies how easily Shane can let go as he watches him coat his fingers in lube, fingers of his free hand splayed wide on Ryan’s chest as he reaches back.

His breath hitches and stutters as he sinks down on the first finger, eyes heavy lidded and jaw slackened at the initial pressure. He shifts, rises and falls shallowly and Ryan stares transfixed. His fingernails dig crescent moons into the meat of Shane’s thighs, and he’d be concerned if he didn’t already know that Shane likes the bite of it, the sting.

“ _God_ , you look so good like this.” Ryan mumbles as Shane arches, sliding down on another finger. Shane hiccups out a laugh, his head flopping forward with the effort to keep it up and laugh and concentrate on the fingers in his ass at the same time.

“Enjoy it while it lasts baby, cause these old bones won’t be up to any bedroom gymnastics for much longer.”

“Bullshit.” Ryan mutters, pushing a hand through Shane’s sweaty and tilting his head up. “You’ll be riding me into the mattress well into our eighties.” Shane’s breath hitches, whether it’s Ryan’s hand in his hair that does it, or the notion that this is truly a long term thing, is unclear.

He groans, low and desperate face scrunching up and falling slack as he all but slams back onto his own fingers. Ryan reaches out for his slightly softened cock, stroking from base to tip and Shane grunts, hips twitching between Ryan’s grip on his dick and the fingers in his ass.

“Okay okay okay.” He chants panting, slipping off of his fingers with a hiss. “If I’m not sitting on your dick in the next 10 seconds I’m gonna die.” Ryan cackles throwing his head back against the pillows. “You think I’m joking Ry, you won’t be laughing when I collapse dead on top of you and you suffocate to death I may not be jacked like you but I’m still heavy.” Shane babbles, shuffling along with Ryan as he repositions himself to lean against the headboard with Shane in his lap, arms looped around his shoulders.

“I’m not jacked, I’m just well built.”

“You’re built like a human monster truck Ryan and I _love_ it.”

“Does that make you a monster fucker?”

“Do you even have to ask? I already said I’d fuck Bigfoot now put your dick in me or I’m leaving you for him.” Ryan muffles his laugh into the skin of Shane’s shoulder.

“Condom?” He asks.

“Bigfoot?” Shane replies impatiently and Ryan just laughs.

“Alright.” He says, reaching blindly for the lube and coating himself. He groans, low and guttural as he strokes himself, getting his cock ready for Shane. He grips his cock in one hand and Shane’s hip in the other, guiding him onto his dick achingly slowly. Shane tilts his head back as he sinks down and Ryan starts to fill him, blissed out and full. Ryan kisses his slack mouth, wet and hungry and Shane hums, rocking his hips slightly as he takes him to the hilt. He lets Ryan fuck his mouth with his tongue, pliant until he rises up on his knees and then sinks back down, a slow and delicious drag.

“Fuck baby, so tight.” Ryan grits out, bucking up into the tight heat of Shane’s ass and Shane slams down to meet his thrusts, biting off a choked moan as Ryan guides his rocking with bruising hands on his hips. They fall into a faltering rhythm of give and take, Ryan’s teeth grazing across Shane’s adam’s apple as he plants his feet on the mattress and fucks up into him with a grunt. Shane meets every thrust, powerful thighs working overtime to chase the fullness.

“There, Ry, harder Jesus fuck.” Shane groans, his hand falling to his cock bobbing against his abdomen. He strokes himself tight and fast and Ryan tries his hardest to give him what he wants, anything he wants. His vision narrows to just Shane above him, flushed a ruddy red, eyes scrunched up as he chases his pleasure. Ryan can feel the heat coiling tightly in his stomach.

“I’m-” He moans out and Shane’s eyes open the barest amount and Ryan catches a glimpse of brown, arousal darkened eyes as he starts to come, still fucking up into him as Shane grinds down frantically. He moans as Ryan spills inside him and his back bows as he starts to come, hand pumping his cock as he continues to rock back on Ryan’s dick, chasing every drop of sensation. He slows to a stop, come pooling on Ryan’s abdomen. Ryan swipes his fingers through it and brings it up to Shane’s lips. He sucks them greedily, cheeks hollowing around the digits and Ryan moans, cock twitching, sensitive and still buried inside him.

“We’re so gross.” Shane says, garbled around Ryan’s fingers. He wrinkles his nose and removes them, wiping the remnants of come and saliva on Shane’s hairy thigh. He sucks in a breath as he gets up and subsequently collapses next to him on his front, stretching out languidly like a cat before scrunching his face up in disgust at the now tacky come inside him.

“You’re the one so horny for a dick in your ass that you threatened to leave me for Bigfoot if I didn’t fuck you bare.” Shane hums with a self-satisfied smirk, his eyes closed as he flops an arm over Ryan’s chest.

“Don’t act like you don’t love it. You love it gross. More importantly you love _me_ gross.”

“Yeah, well, I love you and you’re gross.” Ryan feels the bottom of his stomach drop out. Shane’s eyes flutter open. He tweaks Ryan’s nipple.

“I’m gross and I need a shower.” He says hauling himself up from the bed and staggering into the bathroom. Before Ryan can panic Shane pokes his head back out with a smile.

“Me too by the way.” He says with a wink. He leaves the bathroom door open, an invitation.

 

* * *

 

Ryan is worried. He watches warily as Shane continues to squint at his screen, brow furrowed so intensely Ryan is getting a headache just by looking at him. He’s sure Shane must already have one, and if the frowning isn’t the cause it’ll be the fact that he hasn’t eaten or slept properly for the last few days.

It’s time to clock out, Ryan has already packed away his stuff and shrugged his jacket on but Shane hasn’t moved an inch. Ryan sighs, clearly loud enough for Shane to hear him over whatever he has playing through his headphones as he finally blinks, red rimmed eyes finally pulled away from the glow of his monitor. He slips the headphones off and gives Ryan a small smitten smile before rubbing his eyes with a groan.

“I need coffee.” He croaks as he moves to stand, but Ryan reaches out, hand resting on Shane’s forearm and preventing him from going any further.

“You need to go home.” Ryan says. Shane rolls his eyes.

“The meeting is tomorrow and-”  
“And you’ve been over your pitch a thousand times and reviewed every second of content you’re presenting a million times over.” He strokes a hand down Shane’s arm, turning his hand over where it grips the armrest and takes his palm in his. “You need to go home, you need to rest.” He all but pleads.

The breath rushes out of Shane and he stares at their joined hands. He runs a thumb over Ryan’s knuckles and swallows thickly.

“I’m nervous...” He says quietly. “Who’s the scaredy cat now?”

Ryan is so proud of him.

It’s obvious that the meeting has him worried to anyone that so much as glances at him but it’s one thing to feel afraid and entirely another to admit it, especially when it’s Shane. Shane is an open book to Ryan in so many ways that sometimes Shane needn’t say anything. But history has taught them that what might seem obvious, often isn't. Shane is so quick to categorise and explain away his emotions that sometimes he simply fails to acknowledge them or barely experiences them at all.

“Makes sense.” He says smiling kindly. “This is important to you and you’ve worked so hard on Ruining History it’s only natural to be nervous before trying to convince the big shots to green light it for another season.” Shane bites his lip, worrying it as he drifts back into his head, lost in anxious thought even as Ryan attempts to drag him out of it. He squeezes his hand and ducks his head, trying to catch Shane’s eyes again. He smiles sheepishly. “But in all honesty,” Ryan starts with a grin, “I don’t think it’s gonna take much convincing.” Shane rolls his eyes but the apples of his cheeks quickly tint pink. He lets go of Ryan’s hand to quickly save his work and shut down his computer, scooping up notes and pens and cables and swiping them unceremoniously into his bag. He swivels on his chair to face him, some of the tension slipping from his shoulders as he stands.

“You have an awful lot of faith in someone frequently suspected of being a demon.” He says, wrapping an arm around Ryan as they make their way toward the exit. Ryan can’t help but snuggle closer into Shane’s side.

“Yeah, yeah whatever big guy. Let’s go home, I’m hungry.”

 

* * *

 

Ryan watches from Shane’s bed as he flits in and out of the bathroom, putting on and then tearing off outfit after outfit. It’s another rare glimpse at a Shane that is far from calm and collected. Ryan omits the ‘cool’ from the familiar adage because Shane has never been cool and he certainly isn’t now. He is up entirely too early but Ryan’s attempts at convincing him to stay in bed a little longer had all failed. On his fifth circuit Shane stops in front of the mirror in the corner of the room and anxiously tugs at the hem of his dark blue button down. He’s tamed his hair and put his contacts in, his warm, brown eyes unobscured by his usual frames. Ryan catches his eye in the reflection and smiles, makes grabby hands at him from where he lounges propped up against the headboard.

Shane turns to face him, arms outstretched in a halfhearted flourish.

“How do I look?” He asks, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“Distracting.” Ryan hums, dragging his gaze down the length of him, still reaching for him. Shane shuffles toward him, perching on the edge of the bed. Ryan wastes no time in wrapping himself around him, nuzzling Shane’s freshly shaven cheek as he loops his arms around his shoulders from behind.

“Train wreck distracting or wanna jump my bones distracting?” Shane huffs, a smile in his voice as he basks in Ryan’s attention.

“Always jump your bones distracting,” he murmurs, peppering the nape of his neck with lingering kisses, “even when you had the bowl cut and I’m still mad about that.” Shane snorts and reaches out behind him.

Ryan slides off the bed and kneels in front of him, taking both of his hands in his own. Shane looks down at him tenderly, thumb brushing softly over his knuckles.

“You’re gonna smash this.” He says earnestly.” You’re smart and funny and charismatic and handsome. You’ve worked so hard for this and it shows. The show’s amazing dude.” Shane smiles shaky and awe-filled. He leans forward and brushes his lips against Ryan’s forehead with a whispered ‘thank you’. Ryan grins, disentangles their hands to slide his hands up Shane’s thighs.

“So...” He drawls, grin turning wolfish. “Good luck blowjob?”

 

* * *

 

Ryan sits at the head of the table, as close as he can get to where Shane is standing at the front of the meeting room. Shane lights up as he gives his pitch. He’s composed and professional but the love he has for the project is palpable and apparent in every word. Ryan spends the whole time alternating between grinning uncontrollably and nervously scanning the faces around the room. Laughter abounds when Shane shows the room the reel he’s prepared and Ryan remembers every episode fondly, even the one that had resulted in Shane eventually yelling at him.

If it weren’t for Shane’s dedication to his work they may have never gotten to this point, Ryan may have missed out on this, watching Shane talk about the things he loves with pride. All at once it floods through him and he can feel his face start to ache from how hard he’s smiling. It’s pride in unsolved, pride in Ruining History, pride in them and their future.

Ryan tells him as much once the room has emptied and it’s just the two of them. They are so drastically far from that work forged friendship their foundations are built on. He looks up at the gangly idiot he’s seen almost every work day for the last 5 years and knows he has a friend for life, someone he wants by his side in any capacity.

“Hey big guy.” He says softly as Shane wraps him up in a hug. “I’m super proud of you.” He adds quietly, shyly. Shane pulls back, his gaze so soft and reverent Ryan blushes to the tips of his ears. Large palms rise to cup his face and Ryan’s eyes flutter shut of their own volition.

Shane kisses him, sweetly and thoroughly, pouring adoration into his mouth and Ryan accepts it greedily. He leans up on his tiptoes, fingers tangled in Shane’s shirt, gripping tightly to his waist as he kisses back harder, back arching as Shane tugs him closer.  Shane drags his mouth away with a gasp, resting his forehead against Ryan’s.

“I couldn’t have done it without you.” He says and Ryan laughs at his dramatics and places a lingering chaste kiss on his slightly parted mouth.

“Nah,” Ryan says “you could’ve done it without me. But it’s better when we do it together.” Shane smiles, smitten.

“Yeah little guy, it’s better together.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you reading! You can also find me on tumblr [@mercury-skies](https://mercury-skies.tumblr.com/)


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